


Coming To Terms

by Guanin



Series: Antipodal Shadows [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Penguin's Umbrella". Jim meets with Oswald to clear the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming To Terms

_This is probably a horrible idea_ , Jim thought as he sat down on a bench to await the man who had turned his life so inside out that he wasn’t sure that the sky he was looking at was the right one. He had chosen a somewhat isolated bench in a corner of the park by one of the trees to give them some privacy, yet keeping it at one of the most popular walkways to retain the safety of being in public. Not that being in public was terribly safe in Gotham. A dry leaf crunched under his foot as he shifted on the hard, wooden planks to get into a more comfortable position. The wound in his torso stung if he leaned even a little into his left side, so sitting was a little tricky these days. Then there as the leg. Walking was mostly okay except for the occasional limp, but it still hurt. Another pair of war souvenirs to add to the pile.

The bullet holes that Zsasz had put in him had actually been Oswald’s excuse for calling him. Jim couldn’t be sure whether Oswald cared about his welfare for Jim’s own sake or to make sure that his connection to the GCPD was intact. Most likely the latter. Still, Jim had suggested meeting, which was a catastrophically bad idea on many counts, neutral location or not, but there were a few things that needed airing out. Some suspicions needed confirming.

“Hello, Jim.”

Jim turned to look up at Oswald, who stood a few feet away smiling at him, an umbrella held closed in his right hand. He looked none the worse for wear except for a set of four, parallel scratches on his left cheek, faded, yet recent. From a slap with a ringed hand, perhaps? 

“I’m so happy you wanted to meet me,” Oswald continued. “How are you? You look well. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little achy, is all. What happened to you?”

Jim touched his left cheek.

“Oh, this.” Oswald’s hand hovered over the scrape. “It’s nothing. Fish Mooney didn’t appreciate my still being alive.”

“So she slapped you.”

“Yes. A show of her frustration at not being able to dispatch me herself. All bark, no bite.”

Oswald sat next to him, leaning his umbrella on the bench beside him. 

“Mooney has plenty of bite. As does her boss.”

“Ah, yes,” Oswald said. “I’m so sorry about that. I was worried you might be resentful after what happened. But I couldn’t let you go to jail. Not for helping me. And they were bound to find out that I was alive, eventually. It wouldn’t have been right for you to lose your freedom and your career over me.”

“It would have been worse for all of us to have been killed by Falcone.”

“You’re right, of course. Absolutely. It is really fortunate we all made it out alive.”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Wondering what?”

"How weird it is that Falcone let us all live."

"Ah. Yes. Don Falcone must have a generous side after all."

"No, he doesn't," Jim said, turning toward Oswald with a knowing smile on his face. 

Oswald smirked that secretive smile of his that Jim was just starting to get acquainted with. 

"No,” he said, meeting Jim's eyes. "You’re right. He doesn't."

"You made a deal with Falcone. How?"

"We reached a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Which consists of what?"

"I'm afraid I really can't reveal all my doings to you, James. A man has to preserve some secrets."

"Not when they involve me. What did you and Falcone agree to?"

"Nothing that does involve you, I promise. As long as you don't rise against his organization again, you have nothing to worry about. I was surprised that you tried to arrest him. I wasn’t expecting that,, though I guess I should have knowing it's you."

"It must have made keeping me alive a tougher sell."

"You didn't make it easy, I must admit. I really must advise you not to antagonize him in the future. I'm not sure that I could convince him to let you go a second time."

"So, I owe you my life, then."

Brilliant.

"Oh, no,” Oswald said, face filled with worry. “You don't owe me anything. You saved my life when you had no reason to. I couldn't do any less but to save yours."

"I didn't want to become a murderer. Some of us consider that a good reason."

"You're a good man. I know. That's why I like you."

"You don't need to keep insisting that you like me. I saved your life. I get that you feel like you owe me. I do. And I can help you on your way up the criminal ranks despite myself, because you will help me close cases. The mayor is in Falcone's pocket. You work for Maroni. That's how you found out that he put out a hit on someone in Falcone's camp, though you didn't specify that much. I and Harvey saved the mayor, which made us look good while stopping a professional assassin. And Falcone wins because his guy stays alive and in power. And since you're secretly working for Falcone, you look good, too."

Oswald smiled, a real, genuine smile, or as close to it as he could come, his eyes lighting up as he gazed at Jim, which unnerved him. Jim couldn't tell if it was a truthful expression or not. 

"I really do like you. Jim. You just proved why. You're a great detective, as well as a good man and, yes, you can help me rise in power and I do owe you for saving my life, but I do like you."

"How can you like me? I'm the opposite of everything you are."

"Yes. Yes, you are." 

For some reason, this only seemed to make Oswald happier. 

"Don’t you like people who are like you?"

"People like me aren't very trustworthy."

"So you like people that you can trust to do what you need them to?"

"You don't like that I like you."

"Not really. Though you saved my life, so I appreciate that you do. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, because I am grateful, but, like you said, you're not trustworthy. And you're a mobster. I feel like I should be arresting you, not thanking you."

"But you won't, right?"

Jim breathed deep, mentally shaking his head at the unfeasibility of that scenario.

"No,” he said. “I pay my debts, too."

"You can trust me, Jim."

"Untrustworthy people often say that."

"Yes, but everything I’ve ever told you, I meant it. You can trust what I say to be true."

"The whole truth?"

Oswald hesitated, looking away for a second 

"Never mind," Jim said. "I'm not sure I want the whole truth."

"Most people tend not to. It's a good policy. The truth can be so overwhelming."

"Would you tell me the whole truth if I asked you to?"

Oswald said nothing, eyes flashing with apprehension. Like Jim expected. He turned away, doing a little people watching as he waited for a reply. This time, he wasn't brushing aside the question. He wanted an answer, true or not. Figuring this guy out was proving to be a hell of a headache and maybe if he kept him talking he'd be able to determine something useful out of this other than that Oswald liked him. Which he now believed to be true. Because, well, it didn't make sense if he didn't by this point. Contrary to how he had been acting, Jim did believe some of what Oswald said. The man used the truth as much as lies to get what he wanted.

“Falcone assigned you to kill me because I asked him to.”

Jim swiveled around on the bench, wincing as the motion jarred his injuries, but he didn’t care them. His only focus was Oswald and the unimaginable sentence he had just spoken to him. Oswald was looking down at the ground by his feet, face still and wan with apprehension as he clasped at the handle of his umbrella, back stiff with distress.

“You what?” Jim asked, voice hardening. “I thought he was testing my loyalty, so he would have something to hold over me. Everything that has gone wrong since I returned to Gotham has been because of this. Why would you—“

“Because anyone else would have killed me.”

The words dried in Jim’s mouth. Oswald had turned to him with a desperate intensity that begged Jim to understand.

“A snitch is condemned to die,” Oswald continued. “That is the rule. No exemptions are made, ever. I could only hope to influence who would get the order of killing me and the only person under Falcone’s control who would hesitate at murder was you. Even your partner would have killed me to save his own skin. But you follow your conscience. I saw that in you. I knew that you were my only chance of staying alive. So I asked Falcone to give the job to you in exchange for me infiltrating Maroni’s organization and snitching for Falcone if you spared me. It was the only thing I could do.”

Jim didn’t know what to say. Oswald hadn’t known him, hadn’t owed him anything, and anyone else would have killed the snitch rather than risk Falcone’s ire. Jim really had been his only way out. 

“I believe you,” Jim said, slumping back on the bench, suddenly feeling like a cement truck had dumped its contents on his head. 

“Thank you,” Oswald said, sagging with relief, a grateful smile lighting up his face. “I was so worried you would resent me for it. I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused you. Mooney sent Gilzean after you before Falcone could send his own man. It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. And Zsasz is… too bold.”

He ground out the last two words in a heated voice, his face sullen and affronted on Jim’s behalf, his mouth scrunched in an irate moue. There was violence in his eyes, flaring for a second before melting back into annoyance. 

"There's no need to plan revenge on my behalf," Jim said carefully. "I can handle myself."

"Of course," Oswald said, smiling apologetically, but the anger lingered in his eyes. "I would never imply otherwise. Still, no harm in having a little backup. If it comes to it."

Jim considered him for a moment.

"I guess not. If it comes to it. Not before.”

"Do you believe I am truthful with you now?"

"Yes." Mostly.

"I'm happy to hear it. I want to you to able to trust me like I trust you."

Somehow, Jim doubted that he could manage that. 

Not sure how much more of this heart to heart he could take, he braced himself for the sting that yanking on his injuries would cause before standing up.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said. "My lunchtime is nearly over." 

He had an easy twenty minutes left, but that was beside the point.

"Of course,” Oswald said, standing in turn. “Thank you so much for meeting me. It means a lot to me that you made the effort."

"Make sure Maroni doesn't catch you. I might not be able to help you this time."

A funny, little smile appeared on Oswald's face, wistful-like.

"I won't," Oswald said. "I learn from my mistakes."

"Good.” Jim managed a lukewarm smile, which made Oswald’s grow wider. “I'll see you later, Oswald. Please don't get us into more trouble."

"I'll do my utmost."


End file.
